


Every Possibility

by subjunctive



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjunctive/pseuds/subjunctive
Summary: New Mexico summers are really, really hot, and sometimes you just need a cold shower.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> Title is from Jane's own line in _Thor_ : "you're the one who's always pushing me to chase down every possibility, every alternative."

"Darcy? Darcy!" Jane called from behind the bathroom door, with a few aggressive thumps for good measure.

"What?" came back the answer. Somehow Darcy always managed to sound like a recalcitrant teenager. It made Jane grind her teeth and have unexpected sympathy for her own mother.

Still, she tried to moderate her tone. "When are you going to be done in there?"

"When I'm done!"

The remnants of Jane's patience dissipated like water in the desert outside. "Clever!" she shouted back.

"If you need to use the toilet, just come in, it's unlocked!"

"No, I need to shower too!" It was late afternoon, the hottest part of an already blisteringly hot day, and the A/C was broken in the research building. Her trailer had a little window unit, but it wasn't very powerful. A cold shower sounded like just the ticket. And it was _her_ shower, not Darcy's, Jane fumed. Darcy shouldn't be able to hog it.

Something about the sound of the water changed, like Darcy was moving around, and a few moments later the door creaked open, revealing the bathroom's occupant. The water was still running in the background. Without her glasses Darcy was squinting a little while drops of water ran down her face. Her soaked hair lay dark and dripping over her shoulder. She was, Jane realized, naked. Should she avert her eyes? It wasn't anything Jane hadn't seen before, or touched before for that matter, but it had been a while. Not since before Thor came and her research was stolen. Darcy had left her alone after that.

She was interrupted by Darcy's fingers snapping in her face. "Yo, up here," she said with a little smirk, and abruptly Jane realized she'd been staring at Darcy's breasts.

"What?" Jane snapped, crossing her arms.

"Get in with me."

Jane stared. "There's barely room in that shower for two people," she pointed out.

"Barely, but enough. You're a tiny person. You don't want to?" There was something of a challenge in Darcy's tone.

Jane's eyes narrowed. "You're wasting water."

One of Darcy's shoulders lifted and fell. "I'm getting back in one way or another, with or without you. My sensitive Minnesotan constitution doesn't let me be outside in this heat. So you can get in with me, or not at all."

Jane got in. It was one hundred percent because she desperately needed the cold shower, and not at all because a clinging drop of water rolled down Darcy's breast, over her nipple, and Jane had the sudden desire to lick it off.

They'd never tried to take a shower together before, and it showed. The shower _was_ small--in direct proportion to the trailer--and Darcy was tall and curvy and took up more room than Jane. Every time she moved even a little, it felt like she was bumping up against Darcy's butt or her belly or her breasts. She kept expecting Darcy to touch her--Darcy was way more forward than Jane, and besides, no one invited you to shower with them unless it was a sex thing--but she didn't, at least not more than was strictly necessary. It was weird.

But the water was just right. Jane gave a deep, satisfied sigh when the cool water cascaded over her, wiping away all the accumulated sweat of the day and swirling it down the drain.

"Nice, right?" said Darcy.

"Very nice," agreed Jane in a gasp, tilting her head back under the spray. Her skin actually felt like it was tingling. Sweet, sweet relief. "Pass me the loofah and some soap?"

Darcy squirted some body wash on the scrubbie and they traded places so Jane could soap herself up. All the while she was acutely aware of Darcy's eyes on her. If Jane was the kind of person who would slow down and do a sexy scrubbing for someone to watch, she would have, but she only felt slightly like an idiot at the idea, so she didn't. Darcy totally would enjoy doing that, though, so Jane offered her the loofah.

She waved it away. "I'm already clean."

"Yet you're still in the shower."

"It's a nice shower." One side of Darcy's mouth lifted in a grin.

"And you wanted to share it with me?" Jane asked pointedly, as they traded places again so Jane could rinse off without even a single butt pinch from Darcy. _So_ weird.

"Sure. I'm generous like that."

"It's my shower!" You couldn't be generous with things that didn't belong to you. Everyone knew that. Darcy was just a shower thief.

"And you wanted to share it with me."

"You refused to get out."

"You were staring at my boobs."

"Well, they were . . . right there," Jane said lamely, aware of the patheticness of that defense. "And looking all wet and . . ."

Darcy's hands rose to her breasts and squeezed them, while she looked pleased. "Aren't they great?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "You know they are."

"You haven't been appreciating them very much lately."

"Well, with everything that's happened . . ." Thor had changed things. It felt like Jane's life could be divided into two parts: "before Thor" and "after Thor." Whatever she and Darcy had been doing had been in the "before" category. Jane wasn't sure if they could go back to that.

"I guess I can't really blame you," said Darcy, although her grudging tone said she kind of did. "Thor _was_ a dish and a half. And it's not every day you meet an hot alien god that falls through a wormhole and confirms all your crackpot science theories."

"I am not a crackpot!" protested Jane.

"Well, not _anymore_. But admit it. You craved that sweet, sweet professional validation, and he was right there to give it to you and explain the secrets of the universe while looking extremely attractive."

"I guess you're not completely wrong," Jane said reluctantly, which was her way of admitting Darcy was right.

Darcy understood. "You know it."

"Well, it's not like you tried either," Jane said defensively. "It was always you who initiated things, and you stopped after . . . after everything happened." She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice and didn't totally succeed.

Darcy snorted. "Yeah, _duh._ You were all pining and sad and stuff. Besides, I'm not that desperate. You won't get any pity fucking from me."

Something about Darcy's . . . _everything_ always managed to get under her skin, raise her hackles. "And what about other kinds of fucking?" Jane shot back.

Darcy's hands were on her hips. "What did you have in mind?"

Jane kissed Darcy to shut her up. Darcy had a sharp tongue when she wanted to use it that way, but now it was soft and sinuous as she slid it against Jane's. Jane hadn't kissed anyone since Thor, and that had been brief and shallow--more of a promise of things to come than anything in itself. Jane wasn't a huge fan of kissing per se, but Darcy loved it, and if she kissed you, you could tell. She nibbled on Jane's lower lip, and the sharp edge of her teeth sent a bolt of heat straight between her thighs, making her whimper.

It wasn't right for her to be the only one who was out of sorts. Jane's hands came up between them to cup Darcy's breasts. Her large, pale pink nipples, Jane remembered, were sensitive. She flicked a fingernail over one hard bud, observing Darcy's reaction. She sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide and dark, so Jane did it again, listening to her moan. Darcy's breasts were heavy in her hands and they were both panting.

Jane's other hands skimmed down her side with the lightest of touches, following the dip of her waist and the flare of her broad hip. _Voluptuous._ It was the kind of word that Jane associated with romance novels, but it perfectly described Darcy's figure, the kind Jane--slim and flat as a teenager--had been jealous of. 

Darcy gasped when Jane's hand slipped between her legs. She was silky, slippery, and Jane didn't think it was just the water. She had considerable practice at figuring out what Darcy liked. Even if it had been a few months, it was like riding a bike. If Jane had ever learned how to ride a bike.

“Jesus!” Darcy yelped as Jane made a vee with her fingers and pulled her clit between them, kneading it between her knuckles. 

“Just Jane is okay.” She grinned. 

Darcy stared at her. “Jesus, Jane,” she repeated, and choked out a laugh. 

“Laughter is not really what I’m going for here,” said Jane. With two fingers she pulled back the clitoral hood so she could get at the little nub itself underneath. A few light rubs with a third fingertip had Darcy almost bowling over. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Darcy whimpered. She braced one hand against the tiles behind Jane and propped up the other foot on the edge of the tiny bathtub, opening herself up by turning out her knee. Her breasts wobbled as she moved. “Just so you know, if I fall and break my neck I’m totally blaming you.” 

Another tantalizing drop of water ran over the curve of Darcy’s breast, and Jane wasn’t going to miss her chance this time, so she traced its path down, down, down with the tip of her tongue until she reached Darcy’s large, pale areola. She flicked her tongue out over the erect nipple, testing, and Darcy moaned as she sealed her lips around it and sucked—gently, because Darcy was always complaining about her breasts being too sensitive. 

The rock of Darcy’s hips made Jane slip an exploring finger back to her vagina. She rubbed against the rim of her entrance, feeling the muscles there contract. Two fingers slipped easily inside, Jane’s breath catching at the sensation. Darcy was so warm inside, warm and slippery, silky in some places and rough in others, and she’d gotten in the shower to get _away_ from the heat, but that was the furthest thing from Jane’s mind in that moment. 

“Fuck, yeah, come on,” Darcy insisted in a whine. She was always insisting, this weird mixture of willful and laid-back that Jane doubted she would ever fully understand. 

But she did understand that she wanted Darcy to come _right now_ , to be reduced to a quivering mess, so she sat on the edge of the tub. The lower position meant it would be easier to use both hands, and she did: one to slide three fingers into Darcy and the other to circle her clit in hard, fast motions. Darcy’s moans grew louder until Jane crooked her fingers just right and her whole body clenched, shuddering, for several long moments, unable to make a sound. 

She steadied Darcy’s hips afterward as she recovered, panting and pushing her heavy hair back clumsily, and then twisting to turn the cold water knob all the way to the right. 

“I’ve missed that,” said Jane. 

“Me?” Darcy smirked. 

“No, the silence. Sometimes it seems like the only way to make you be quiet is an orgasm.” 

With a breathless laugh, Darcy leaned into the wall of the shower. “You’re one to talk. Remember how you, like, screamed that one time we were on the roof and some random dude came over to make sure everyone was okay?” 

Jane pinched the inside of Darcy’s thigh in retaliation. “Now I’m all sticky,” she muttered, rubbing her fingers together. “You shouldn’t have turned off that water.” 

Darcy grinned. “Well, I’m not going to turn it back on right now.” 

“Why not?” demanded Jane. 

Darcy sucked the fluids from Jane’s fingers, tongue lapping at the crevices between. _Narcissist,_ thought Jane fondly. “I think we’re going to get dirtier before we get cleaner.”


End file.
